


Be My Heater

by SentientBot



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman (Comics)
Genre: (ironically), AO3 Tags - Freeform, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Alien Biology, Clark is older than Bruce, Friends to Lovers, Hypothermia, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Liberal use of headcanons, M/M, Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, blatant disregard of canon, elastic chapter count, medically based (if not accurate), theyre both in their late twenties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentientBot/pseuds/SentientBot
Summary: It didn’t matter that Batman conceptually knew the symptoms of hypothermia, experiencing it was a whole new beast. How do you call for help when you don’t even realize you need to?
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	1. Bat

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been drafted, I only need to do some shaping and re-working before I can post the whole thing. For now, I want to say that this might start off a bit weird. I’m throwing you in without much explanation. This doesn’t follow any stated continuity, but imagine it takes place earlier in their careers. I’ve got a LOT of headcanons I’m messing around with here so feel free to dip out if it’s not for you, no hard feelings. I stuck as close to canon as DC itself does, which is to say, not actually close at all.
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes, this is unbeta’d. No posting schedule, and expect the rating to change to Mature/Explicit in later chapters. Title is from Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Cold Light.

As much as Bat hated it, he’d admit that he made the wrong call that night. Things had taken a turn for the worse and he should have listened and just stayed in. He and Alfred had argued about it while he was suiting up, and he wasn’t excited to get back and face the mother of all I-told-you-so’s that was waiting for him. He chose to avoid that by extending his patrol.

They’d both been injured the week before. While working on upgrading the batwing, a panel they’d been attaching had slipped. Alfred had gotten a dislocated shoulder and Bat had cracked two ribs and bruised three more. There wasn’t much he could do about the ribs besides wait it out, so tonight he’d taken a low dose of pain meds and left before he and Alfred could really get into it. Besides, this case had an ever slimming window before his chance to wrap it up would end.

Now he was walking through the sewer system towards where he’d left his car topside. He could take a shortcut down here and avoid one of the more nocturnally active neighborhoods in the city. It was New Years Eve and the streets would be busy enough that it would give him actual grief to stay unseen.

His simple intel job had turned into a two mile chase and a five-on-one melee, and one of them got a lucky stab between the plates of his armor on his arm. While it stung, he was able to make a pretty good improvised compression bandage, and he’d been able to keep the wound relatively clean, so he wasn’t too worried about it.

The air was frigid down there, but at least it was still. The lack of wind almost made up for the smell. Bat had to wade through a swamped section where the tunnels’ pathway had been barricaded from some long forgotten fight, so he was wet from the thighs down. That ice chill had settled under his skin, and he grimaced at the shift of water in his boots.

Bat stopped when he hit a dead end where he didn’t expect one. He recognized the tunnel, he knew where he was, he just hadn’t been paying attention. He should have turned earlier. Much earlier. How long had he been walking? He hadn’t noticed the lapse in attention, which he knew should be worrying, but it felt more important to be figuring out his way home. He shivered and watched his breath hang in the air before turning back. While he backtracked, he tugged at the makeshift bandage on his arm. The intended sharp zing of pain had him feeling a bit more present.

He’d only walked another block before deciding that the air down there was too cold. Plus he’d already passed the neighborhoods he was avoiding thanks to his inattentive stroll, so he took the first ladder he came across.

He got the manhole above him pushed up and was quickly reminded what January weather in Gotham was like. Sleet immediately pelted the exposed part of his face. Too cold to be rain, too wet to be snow. He didn’t know if he could trust his numb fingers to get him back down the ladder safely, so he hauled himself up and onto the street. He shivered at exactly the wrong second and his boot slipped on the top wrung. His injured arm slammed on the ground and he grit his teeth against the pain as he stood up.

The batsuit was water resistant, not waterproof, and it didn’t take long for that icy chill to seep deeper than his skin. He needed to stick to back alleys, so he predicted it would be another half hour at the least before he got back to the car. He didn’t trust the wiring in his boots with how wet they currently were, so the heaters weren’t an option.

He hadn’t realized he’d zoned out again until he stumbled. He’d just hopped a fence, and his feet were too numb to land with any grace. It was too dark back here. He turned on the cowl’s night vision, then nearly blinded himself when someone turned a light on in a window above him. He turned it back off and blinked rapidly to get rid of the bright spots.

What was he doing? Walking, that’s right. Walking… to the car. Yes. He felt the cowl against his face, so he was Batman right now. That’s not something he’d ever had to check for before. He couldn’t let the cowl come off, that was important. He had to stay in the dark. But it was night, so everywhere was dark. He wasn’t going the right way.

When he tried to climb back over the fence, his numb fingers lost their grip and he fell to one of his knees. The voice in his head said _You need to call for help._ He didn’t. He was fine. The gloves were just making it hard. He tugged one off with his teeth, and reached back up to grab the top of the gate. Cold skin hit frosty metal and froze together. Bat ripped his hand back and felt the pricks of pain on his palm where he’d lost skin. Why did he do that? _Call Alfred_ , said the voice, more firmly than before.

“He’s upset, I can’t,” Bat mumbled, barely registering the modulator scrambling his tone. He did notice the shivering had stopped, that was nice.

_He’s not. You need to tell him where you are._  
“Where _we_ are,” he muttered, but he double tapped the comm in his ear with numb fingers, pinging Alfred’s direct line instead of the cave’s.

Almost immediately Alfred answered, voice hard. “Batman. You’re up late.”

Bat knew that was a code, trying to figure out if he was compromised. He couldn’t remember what he should say. “I’m… I’m behind the closed down Green’s.”

“Are you-”

“I can’t find the car.” Bat didn’t realize right away that he’d cut Alfred off.

“Batman are you injured?”

He had to think about that one for a sec. “Just… just a cut on my… arm. ‘S not deep.” He went to stand up, and felt a weird crunch around his knees. The wet fabric of the batsuit had frozen. That probably wasn’t good.

“You need to get in the car Batman.” Alfred’s voice was sharp, but not angry. So they weren’t fighting anymore, that was nice.

“We’ll save that for later. For now you need to get in the car. I’ll drive it back to the cave, you just need to get in.”

Bat looked up and saw the armored car sitting at the mouth of the alley. It got here fast. Or he’d lost time. He let his boots scuff the ground as he walked to it, then slid into the driver’s seat. When he reached for the steering wheel, it folded into the dashboard.

“I’ll be driving,” Alfred’s voice was small and tinny through the comm, but sounded even further off than was usual.

Bat lazily tried to track the passing of street lights, but the motion made him too dizzy and he shut his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re worried about lack of authenticity or accuracy, I’ve had the misfortune of working on two extreme hypothermia cases, one who survived and one who did not. That said, I’m not a doctor, I’ve just had some basic training. If you’re interested in reading up on an incredible story go read about Anna Bågenholm! Wild stuff.


	2. Clark

Clark sat up in bed .4 seconds after his comm pinged. He slid it into his ear, fully awake by the time he responded with “Superman,” being sure to keep his voice smooth. He wouldn’t have needed to look at a clock even if he had one. It was 0522.

“Superman, we haven’t yet had the pleasure. I’m Agent A, I-”

Clark was in his suit within the next second. “Yeah, you’re Batman’s, uh, friend. Is everything alright?”

Agent A listed off coordinates. “I need some assistance. Batman needs medical attention, and I’m unable to maneuver him to it.”

Clark was out his window and at the coordinates by the time Agent A was done speaking. He landed on a pristinely paved road. It led to an opening in the side of a hill. The entrance, of what he could smell was a cave, was 36 ft long, but only 9.8 ft tall. _No wonder that street tank has to be so short,_ Clark thought as he flew in.

He consciously didn’t use his x-ray vision. He learned very early on in his interactions with Batman that to be on his good side meant not to invade his privacy. He not only benefited from their relationship, he also really enjoyed getting to work with Batman. His trust was something Clark wanted to keep. It also felt like a challenge. He wanted to earn Batman’s identity. He got to cheat in so many areas in his life, it was good to have a goal that he could work for.

His hearing locked on to two different heartbeats inside the cave. One measured, if a tad elevated, and the other was a slumping crawl. He went straight to them, and landed next to the urban tank. Clark wasn’t going to call it a car.

“We need him in the med bay.” Agent A didn’t even blink behind his domino mask when Clark alighted in front of him. He wasn’t what Clark had expected. He had broader shoulders than he would have guessed. Taller too. Clark noted the sling on his right shoulder when he turned. He strode down a short path and into a tall, well lit room. It was so full of machinery that Clark wasn’t sure he could see through it if he wanted to.

He leaned down at the driver’s side door where Batman sat unconscious, and slipped one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees. He felt how wet and ice cold the suit was, and immediately switched to his thermal vision. Batman’s core was 78.9 degrees f, his heart irregularly slugging along much slower than Clark was used to hearing. Now alarmed, Clark lifted him, sped to the bay, and was placing him on the sleek hospital bed just as Agent A walked up. Again, the man didn’t blink.

“Take his temperature, I’ll get his suit off.” The agent nodded toward an electric thermometer on Clark’s side of the bed.

“His core temperature’s 78.9.”

“Ah, the alien’s an american,” came back the quick retort, not looking away from Batman. “Do you have that number in celsius, sir?”

Clark did some quick math with his least favorite equation. “26.”

Clark heard the barest huff of air and saw the slightest stiffening of the agent’s spine as his only reaction. Agent A reached to the wall behind the head of the bed and flipped two switches. Clark heard a faint electrical hum come from the bed.

“Useful trick anyhow. Can you give me any other vitals? Take his boots off, if you’re planning on staying and helping,” Agent A directed, pressing a series of hidden buttons on Batman’s belt.

“I’m surprised I’m allowed to,” Clark admits, taking care to keep his tone more lighthearted than the words would suggest. His attention quickly turned back to Batman when he shifted on the bed. Not awake, but better than the unconscious still from a second ago. Clark started counting heartbeats.

“I trust you more than he does, I suspect,” Agent A said as he worked the concealed latches at the hips of the suit. They both glanced at Batman’s face when he twitched and let out a quiet sigh. “I… appreciate that he’s chosen to work with you.”

Clark mentally set his reaction to that aside. He’d have time to process that later, but for now he finished counting. “His pulse is 31 bpm and irregular, his respiratory rate is 26 breaths a minute.” He’d only been the one to perform first aid a few times, more often as Clark Kent than Superman, but he knew the basics. He glanced up at Agent A, but the man just swore under his breath and dragged a defibrillator cart away from a wall. He didn’t make any move to do anything further with it though, just kept it close. “I can’t do blood pressure or oxygen just by looking, so I’m not sure about those,” Clark added.

“I’d be astounded if you could. Grab that cuff and place it on his arm.”

They finished stripping Batman down to his underlayer while the cuff inflated. That layer was damp, but thin enough that it should dry quickly, especially with the gradual heat coming from the heating pads in the bed. Clark didn’t let his eyes linger on the few large scars showing on his arms and legs.

Agent A left the cowl on, then turned and started pulling plastic wrapped supplies out of a drawer. “I’m going to place an IV. Get two bags of saline from that cabinet there, and place them in the warmer at the end of the counter. We’ll get fluid going as soon as they’re 38 degrees. Can you watch for it?” Clark nodded. “Good. I’m going to switch the cowl for a mask.” Agent A capped the end of the IV catheter one handed, and taped the tubing to Bruce’s arm with the other. “If you have the urge to peek, please feel free to leave. I’m happy to take it from here.”

Clark grinned, hoping he wasn’t being too serious, and made a show of turning fully around to grab the saline. “Y’know, I’m kind of a heater myself,” he joked, still facing the wall. Then he paused. He thought about it while he put the saline in the top shelf of a microwave-oven looking machine and turned it on. “Actually, would that help? The skin-to-skin method is still used, right? I can regulate my own temperature, and I’d be able to monitor his. It would certainly be more accurate than the bed,” he turned back around and said, after he’d given Agent A more than enough time. Batman had on a wrap of black fabric covering his head from the nose up. Then he watched as he started to violently shiver again, as he turned his head to the side and muttered something quietly.

The white lenses of Agent A’s domino mask stared directly at him for a full 3.6 seconds. “It is, and it would. You can spare the time?” he finally said.

“I should be fine. I can ping you on the comm if an emergency pops up. The saline is done heating up.” Agent A nodded in acknowledgment.

“He has a room the next floor down I can prepare. I think it would be best to keep him out for the night, and he’ll prefer to wake up in any room but this one,” Agent A said as he finished hooking up one of the heated saline bags to Batman’s IV, along with a small bag of milk white fluid. Almost immediately Batman stopped shivering.

He examined Batman’s bare fingers then added “Thawing out is none too pleasant of an experience, and this one will be bad. Strip down to your pants Superman, then grab two of the blankets out of the warmer and lay down with him.”

Clark let the top part of his suit melt back into the shield on his chest while Agent A was busy gathering a few supplies.

“You need to strip to your pants, not your trousers. I hope modesty isn’t an issue for you in these circumstances?”

Clark glanced down at his legs in confusion before it clicked. He willed the material of his suit to shorten to about halfway down his thighs. He grabbed the blankets, which felt like they were fresh out of a dryer, and floated up onto the bed. He scooted Batman over a bit so he’d have room.

He moved so he was on his side, and pressed against Batman from shoulder to toe. He draped his arm over Batman’s stomach, then cranked his own temperature up to a balmy 110 f. Batman felt like ice against him, his core still at a low 79.5 f. His heart rate was sounding a little more regular though, and he took comfort in that.

5 minutes and 33 seconds later, Agent A came back up to let him know the room was ready. Clark picked Batman up, bridal style again, and floated after Agent A as he led them to the room.

 _Oh I sincerely hope Batman doesn’t secretly live here_ , Clark thought when he saw the room. It was a small, oval shaped room with a low ceiling. 9 ft long, 5 ft wide, and with just enough room to stand up straight, it felt like a closet. Or a coffin. The walls were smooth charcoal gray, and the floor was black tatami mats. A large insulating pad was on the floor, taking up most of the space.

Clark laid Batman down and was situating his IV while Agent A went to get blankets.  
“You won’t need to switch out the bags when this one’s done,” Agent A said when he got back, indicating the IV stand at the head of their pad. “Just disconnect it when it’s empty. Don’t be alarmed if his temperature drops again, just keep him warm.” He then turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said with a small bow of his head, then left before Clark could respond.

There was a tiny strip of lights on the floor near the door that stayed on. Plenty of light for Clark to see with. He finally let himself fully look at Batman. He’d never seen much of his skin before, but knew he couldn’t normally be this pale. Clark tried to keep his staring as minimal and clinical as possible, but he couldn’t help looking him up and down. To finally see the shapes of him that had always been hidden behind armor.

He shifted the unconscious Batman onto his side, and pulled him back against his chest. He propped Batman’s head on his arm, and gathered both of Batman’s hands in his free one. His fingers still felt like ice.

This was the first opportunity he had to actually think about what was happening. About an hour ago, Batman was very much a stranger. A stranger he was comfortable around, but he was so secretive about everything. At least he wasn’t nearly as cold and closed off as when Clark had first approached him more than two years ago. The very first of the Batman rumors had cropped up, posted to some conspiracy tabloid. It was written off as a joke by anyone who bothered to read it. When more popped up, Clark had gone to check it out for himself, hoping to find either a story or a job.

He had found Batman in the middle of a fight in a warehouse. He watched through the roof, some 800 feet above the building, as Batman methodically demolished some sort of operation. He was brutal to watch. Though he was clearly trained, he treated every encounter as personal, expending more force than Clark agreed with. Clark had even lost sight of him twice, he was so fast.

Clark had broken through the ceiling when the last three men in the warehouse pulled guns. Clark coming in was enough of a distraction for Batman to slip away while Clark rounded up the men and crushed their weapons. Once he had them tied, he’d gone to see where this ‘Batman’ had vanished to. He had found him hunched over some sort of ledger in the office of the warehouse.

“Leave,” Batman had said right when Clark pulled the (locked) door off its hinges. He blinked at the completely unbothered, modulated tone. “You don’t belong in Gotham.”

“And you’re the one to decide that?” Clark was a little thrown. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“It wasn’t. Welcome I mean.” Even though his tone came out flat and disinterested, it was clear how tense he was. Clark raised his hand, palm forward, but as soon as he did he caught the acrid smell of adrenalin pour off of the man in front of him. Batman immediately sank into a deeper stance, but didn’t otherwise flinch.

“Woah, hey,” Clark said in a low voice, freezing in place. “I’m only here to talk. I just want to know what you’re about, and what’s going on here.”

“What I’m doing doesn’t concern you in the slightest, and what I’m ‘about’ even less so.” Clark looked into the white lenses of the black, pointy eared cowl and something in him decided he wouldn’t look behind them. For now.

Clark came back to himself when he peripherally noticed Batman’s core dropping. It fell to 78.1f, then stopped. He rolled Batman and then laid back and pulled him on top of his chest, careful of the IV lines.

They’d been working adjacent to each other for two years now, with occasional opportunities to talk. There was so much he wanted to know about him, beyond just who he was. Clark wanted to know what he looked like, sure, but he also wanted to know what drove him. He was always so focused and intense. It seemed like his life couldn’t include anything that didn’t revolve around whatever impossible mission he’d assigned himself. Clark couldn’t really imagine anyone living on the other side of it.

In one night, Clark was given access to this small window. He met the other person in this operation. Agent A, the voice in Batman’s ear. He’d been able to catch glances of his secret base, _without_ cheating. He’d seen his scars, and now he was laying down, committing an extreme act of physical contact. Clark himself was very tactile, but he knew Batman shied away from it and it just made this night feel so much more surreal.

He stayed up for another 4 hours, 17 minutes, and 56 seconds, just letting his mind wander while the saline dripped away in the silence. He disconnected the IV line when the bag was empty, capped it and lay back. He debated whether he should stay a bit more, or if that would be pushing it. Batman was technically safe at this point. His heart rate had evened out to a much more normal-for-Batman 38 bpm, and his temperature was all the way up to 96 f.

Before he even really came to a decision he dozed off lulled in by the enclosed room, still pressed close to Batman.


	3. Bruce

Bruce’s slow drift towards consciousness was foggy enough that he knew he was out from drugs, not alcohol. Interest sparked in the back of his head. The room wasn’t unfamiliar though, so he wasn’t in danger. Then he noticed the body beneath him. Warm. Definitely his territory. He mentally waved off the back-burnered paranoia.

Bruce dragged a hand up the chest beneath him, picking up that this someone wasn’t his usual. Men were still a relatively new thing for Bruce, but it wasn’t all that surprising. Especially if drugs had been involved.

He pushed himself onto his elbow and leaned over his companion. He didn’t bother opening his eyes all the way in the low light, and his kiss landed at the corner of the other man’s mouth. He shifted his jaw and moved over, and the body beneath him froze to an unnatural still.

That wasn’t right. He noticed the soft mask on his face and his eyes shot open. He snapped backward a few inches and carefully felt the mask to make sure it was still covering everything. A few vapid memories shifted back in place. Being in a back alley and knowing he had to call Alfred. Being so, so cold. Not knowing where he was in his own goddamn city. It meant Batman was drugged, not Bruce.

Bruce wasn’t the one who reacted when he jumped to his feet and backed himself against the wall. He finally processed exactly where he was, noticing the small size of the room, and the faint strip of lights on the floor near the door. His eyes alighted back on his guest. _On Superman_ , he thought with a jolt.

Superman sat up, slowly if not calmly, his eyes visibly blue even in the low light. He said quietly, “Batman, I’m not sure how well you can see right now, but it’s me, Superman.” A very brief hesitation. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bruce caught on that they were both undressed. His newly discovered attraction towards men had started when he realized that he was thinking in different ways around Superman. He readily admitted that he was physically interested in him, had even said so during an interview earlier that summer. He also knew that he wouldn’t have acted on any of that, even if drugs had been involved. The taste in his mouth told him it was propofol.

“I was in the sewers… no, I was behind a closed down Green’s. I was trying to find the batmobile,” Bruce whispered. He didn’t want his voice pattern to be recognized without the modulator. Superman rose to his feet. The way he moved wasn’t natural for anything affected by gravity. Bruce’s eyes locked onto the motion. There was a shadow of _something_ that moved across his broad chest, and then Superman was fully suited up. “Did you find me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone flat, and knowing it came out cold.

“No. Your friend, Agent A, called my comm. You were unconscious when you got to your base, and A needed help getting you out of your… tank.”

“The passenger seat comes out as a gurney, he shouldn’t have needed your help.”  
“You were in the driver’s seat. A couldn’t get you out because of his shoulder.” Bruce shut his eyes at that. He didn’t like Alfred making the decision to bring Superman to the cave, but the guilt of knowing he had gotten him hurt tempered that anger.

“I was hypothermic.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s why you’re here.”

Superman casually leaned back against the wall across from Bruce. “I can regulate my heat output and monitor your temperature better than any machinery. And A mentioned that you wouldn’t want to wake up in the hospital room up there.”

Bruce nodded once, then sat there for a quiet moment, debating. Slowly he whispered, “I… apologize.”

Superman’s mouth twitched in a quick smile. “Don’t worry about it. I can imagine how confusing it must have been to wake up like that.”

Superman smoothly pushed off the wall. Bruce couldn’t tell if he had used his strength, or if he had just chosen to float up, the motion was so fluid. There was never any predicting when Superman would tap into which abilities. There never seemed to be a pattern to it and it fascinated Bruce. They were just so naturally a part of him. It made it glaringly obvious that he wasn’t human. There was something… thrilling about that thought.

“I need to get going. Agent A asked that you let him know when you were awake.” Superman stepped over the bedding in a floating leap that made him look like he was on the moon, and opened the door.

“Superman,” Bruce whispered, not stepping away from the wall. Superman turned back to look at him. “Thank you.”

Superman flashed a slightly crooked grin at him. Decidedly not the showy Superman smile; it was more personal, more genuine. Then he turned and Bruce watched him fly out the door.

-Clark-

Eight days later, Clark was sitting in front of his laptop staring at the blinking cursor. He was replaying that morning for what must have been the thousandth time. How he had snapped awake at the unexpected feel of stubble against his face. At the slow movement of lips against his own. He felt he should be able to brush it off, but any span of time he wasn’t occupied with either of his lives, his thoughts would drift back to that moment.

Even more intrusive was the mental image of those ice-white eyes opening above him. Clark had wondered before what Batman looked like, what color his hair was. What his eyes looked like. He hadn’t guessed that they would be so piercing. He didn’t know eyes could be that color, so pale that they were only just blue. No wonder he had opaque lenses in the cowl. Anything that distinctive would have been immediately recognizable out of the suit.

Later, on the day he had left the cave, he spent far too much time puzzling over Batman’s actions. Why had it happened? Obviously Batman had thought Clark was someone else. It had to be that he had a serious partner, if his first thought after waking up was to kiss him. The implications of that had flipped his view of Batman on its head. Clark had always seen him as such an independent person that the thought of him being in a serious relationship hadn’t even occurred to him.

Something had shifted in his stomach. Everything in there felt like it had suddenly dropped two inches at the realization that Batman might only be so closed off towards Clark. Clark hadn’t ever really seen him interact with anyone else. Maybe the whole secrecy thing was a facade. Maybe that was how little he trusted Clark. That thought had ruined whatever mood the rest of the day was going to have.

He’d spent more time considering it in the following week and had decided that wasn’t too likely. The only other times he’d seen Batman willingly work with someone else was with Agent A on the comms, and very occasionally his cooperation with the GCPD. Neither of those had been attempted to be hidden from Clark, but neither were directly addressed either. Clark thought he’d know if someone else was regularly interacting with Batman.

Clark had also tossed around the idea that it could be Agent A that Batman was involved with. The idea didn’t really hold water though, and Clark hadn’t thought about it too much. For one thing, the Agent would have been much more distraught that night, Clark thought.

Now though, he’d had enough time to come to terms with the concept. Batman was likely in a serious relationship. They’d probably been together since before Batman became Batman. That would certainly explain the secrecy. He’d be protecting someone other than himself. No, what he was now stuck on was his own reaction. Why was he still thinking about it?

He realized suddenly that he _didn’t like it_. He didn’t like the thought that there was someone else so close to Batman. He’d previously taken pride in the fact that he had prodded Batman into a form of allyship with Clark. He liked that their uneasy camaraderie was becoming less and less uneasy. The thought that someone had beat him to it made him jealous.

But _why?_ Why was he jealous? Batman was gradually opening up to him. It was slow going, but it was still there, so clearly this other person wasn’t any sort of threat. Clark physically shook his head, stopping that train of thought and coming back to reality a bit. He shut his laptop with a sigh, triple checking that he had saved the document first. He’d had to fight for the little amount that he’d written and he didn’t want to lose it. He may have perfect memory, but he didn’t enjoy re-typing pages, and his laptop couldn’t handle him doing it at speed.

He went through his nightly routine decidedly not thinking about it anymore. Instead he kept his attention on working out the final shape of what his article could be, and mentally reminding himself to call Ma after work tomorrow.

When he was laying in his bed though, his thoughts fixated back on Batman. The ghost sensation of that kiss, the sharp color of his eyes snapping open, the warm hand pressed against his chest. Even after his first kiss with Lois, he hadn’t spent so much time analyzing it. They’d been broken up for three months now, but he didn’t think he was that touch starved.

And wasn’t that a whole other set of worries. Lois hadn’t broken it off because of the Superman secret, but because of the other one. Before that particular spiral could start up again, Clark switched to thinking about his ongoing investigation. If he wasn’t going to sleep, at least he could put his brain to actual use.

He had an opportunity to snag a massive amount of info coming up that would largely benefit from Batman’s input, or his participation if Clark could convince him. Clark decided he would find him tomorrow night and ask him about it. It would be a good chance to stop in and see where they were at with each other, what sort of damage, if any, he would need to smooth out. Working together would be a good step. He’d never heard Batman apologize before, and this was the best way he could think of to reassure him. Just ignore that it had happened, and ask for help with a case.

Now all he needed to do was hope his brain would keep quiet long enough to fall asleep. He didn’t physiologically need much, but he absolutely needed the break from thinking that it afforded him.

-Bat-

Bat looked down from his perch at the two men below. One had his collar turned up against the sea wind, while the other stood unbothered. He was so completely focused on trying to glean anything from their whispered words that he wasn’t watching his back. His heart rate jumped and the familiar prickle of adrenaline rushed beneath his skin when he heard feet hit the roof behind him. Bat whipped around fast enough that his cape fanned out behind him, and he felt his lip lift in a silent growl before seeing who it was.

Bat straightened and let the growl tone down to a frown. Superman had called him on the comm the day before and had asked if they could meet, but he still didn’t enjoy his territory being so casually intruded on. He was also anxious about what Superman was wanting to talk about. He hadn’t let him know before signing off the call yesterday, and Bat was dreading that it would be about the... event the week before. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it while in the suit. He wasn’t the one who could manage those situations with any sort of grace.

Before any real worry could set in, Superman offered a small wave and a quick quirk of a smile as greeting and said, “I finally have a solid lead in a case I’m working,” Superman said without preamble, something that took a while for Bat to get him used to. The less pleasantries that were exchanged, the less temperamental Bat would be. “It needs to be a stealth mission though, so I was hoping you would be able to help if you had the time.”

Bat relaxed infinitesimally. This was solid ground, a place he could stay in control. “What did you have in mind?”

“A few weeks ago, I found evidence that Luthor is conducting a big research project out of the country,” “He’s been very deliberate about only transferring information physically, so no messages can be digitally intercepted. Three nights ago, I managed to track down where the information is being received again, so-.”

“Again?”

“They pack up and move locations every time they receive a shipment. Which seems to be every other Tuesday, so we’ve got three days. I want to get in and out without being noticed so they don’t change their patterns.”

“Where is the information ending up?”

“A company called Amrind, a shell from the looks of it. Nothing real substantial behind the name, but that’s not surprising,” S said with a shrug. “Currently they’re just outside of Metropolis.”

“Alright. Do you have a plan?”

“Tomorrow night we scout it out, run a little reconnaissance, set up a solid plan to execute the night after.” Superman hesitated a bit, “Does that… is that any good?”

“We’ll work on it. Where are we meeting?” Clark caught that “we”, and it did something warm to his middle.

He gave Bat an address, “It’s a parking garage across the street, can you be there by midnight?”

Bat gave a sharp nod and watched Superman give a warm, genuine smile, the same one from the morning he left the cave, before turning and leaping back down into the smoggy streets without saying anything else. He tried to ignore the odd flair of disappointment at his sudden solitude when he couldn’t tell if it was his own.

Bat thought about that smile for the rest of the night. The crooked quirk of his lip, how his teeth were oh so slightly misaligned. _Aimed at you_.

Bat ignored the thought.

He was perched on one of his regular gargoyles, looking down at his city but not really seeing it. He refocused, trying to drag his attention to the noises down on the street, but it was a relatively quiet night for Gotham. Cold enough to keep people inside.

He and Alfred had installed a thin wool underlayer to the trunk of the batsuit and new liners for the gauntlets, replacing the right one entirely after Bat had left it in the alley, but it was still January. While not truly raining, the air was wet enough that the cold wasn’t easy to brush off.

 _Go home, get warm_ , came that voice, _Unless you’re aiming for another visit?_

“Shut up,” Bat said aloud, wincing a little when he realized he had. It was right though, _he_ was right. He shot off a grapple line, and stepped off the carved stone, swinging down towards home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re worried about lack of authenticity or accuracy, I’ve had the misfortune of working on two extreme hypothermia cases, one who survived and one who did not. That said, I’m not a doctor, I’ve just had some basic training. If you’re interested in reading up on an incredible story, I’d suggest checking this one out! Wild stuff.


End file.
